Black Butler War of Shadows
by AdmiralFirestorm
Summary: Rating may change as story progress-Vincent Phantomhive, demon hybrid son to Ciel, takes up his father's role as the Queen's Guard Dog, only with the iron boot of the swastika pressed down upon the continent, he quickly is thrust into the post of Europe's Guard Dog. From the shadows an old enemy returns with a new master, bent on destruction of Europe and the Phantomhives.


**Hello there to my readers, Fanfiction, and all the world! I present to you another story from the depths of my mind, and what I have read/watched/absorbed!**

 **Now due to my long absence and lack of updates for my other stories, some of you probably want to strangle me right now for just appearing out of the blue with a new story without updating the others. Maybe, I don't know. In any case, I'm very glad none of you know where I live if you do have that urge. My writers block is still putting up a barrier on my other stories but this one I wanted to get out before it was also walled off and while the creative juices are still flowing. Plus during the closing months of 2015, I was mired in an intense swamp of essays and exams, I was lucky to survive the tidal wave of suffocating assignments.**

 **I swear to you that I shall be more frequent in my updates, though I will have to hold off a bit on Rise of the Dark Prince.**

 **Now I shall let this story be explained as we go. If you want a time frame to get your bearings, the first season of Black Butler takes place 1889 (i.e. The Exposition Universale) and second season in 1890. This is 1933 or starts in 1933 so 43 years afterwards. This is largely based on the anime.**

 **I own nothing to do with Black Butler. Please Read and Review.**

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 _Hofbräuhaus_ _Berliner, Berlin_

 _Weimar Republic_

 _30th January, 1933_

The rain was coming down hard that evening, and many of the people in the nation of Germany who, due to the policies of the days newly appointed Chancellor, now had to live in fear, would say it was an omen from the heavens that dark times were fast approaching. The city of Berlin was full to the brim with members of the SA, the vicious and brutal paramilitary wing of the NSDAP, parading about in celebration of Adolf Hitler's rise to the post of Chancellor of the Reichstag, the national legislative assembly in Germany. Across the city, banners were being raised and torches lit as the brownshirts went on with their celebrations. Of course some of these celebrations included the beatings of those the NSDAP declared to be 'subhumans', such as Jews and persons of color. Worse yet for these poor people, the local Berlin police did nothing to stop the SA, and in some cases the police joined in on these beatings.

Yet not every Nazi was celebrating the triumph of the Party on this night, some were engaged in other activities. For this we turn our omniscient gaze upon the Hofbräuhaus Berliner, specifically one SA _Truppführer_ Karl Adler and a dozen or so compatriots of his in the SA in a standoff with one SA _Sturmführer_ Ziegler and yet more SA members. Ziegler having just walked up to Adler's table where he and his compatriots were sat and knocked all their drinks off. This resulted in Adler and his group standing up and then Ziegler's compatriots entered creating the current standoff.

Adler took a step forward towards Ziegler with anger written all across his face in such a manner as to frighten the average man yet Ziegler held his ground with a glare. "Was haben Sie, dass für Schweine tun?!" Ziegler moved faster than Adler could react and slapped him right across the face causing Adler to spin back a bit. Two of his compatriots caught him and helped him stand up straight again as the blow had dazed him a bit that he needed some temporary assistance getting back on his feet.

Ziegler took a step back but then stood tall and imposing, but before Adler could say so much as a word, he rounded on the group with what sounded something akin to a cross between a human voice in the tone of anger and the growl of a canine. "Halt die Klappe Adler! Sie und Ihre Schoßhunde sind eine Schande für den Nationalsozialismus! Sie verbringen nur die Zeit in Bars zu trinken und wenn es Zeit für Rallyes, können Sie einschlafen von einem Kater zu finden!" Adler would have rebuffed such a verbal assault had Ziegler not kept on going with his vocal attack.

"So durch die Reihenfolge der SA werden wir Ihnen das Entfernen von Ihren Positionen." Adler realized what was happening too late as he reached for the holster at his hip, but Ziegler and his men already had their guns up and for a split second, Adler's face was frozen in cold shock. Then with a final vicious smirk, Ziegler pulled the trigger and his men soon followed.

It was a tidal wave of bullets which sped towards Adler and his compatriots, striking them all with merciless fury. The projectiles tore the men apart like they were paper and carved an endless number of holes right through the men. Adler was himself struck three times in the right leg, twice in his left lung, once in his left shoulder, and once in his stomach. However, one bullet from Ziegler's gun, as if guided by some mystical force, struck Adler's right eye and became buried in it. By the time it was over, he was on his knees with blood flowing from him like tea out of a broken teapot. Ziegler gave some orders to his men and they began to haul the bodies of Adler's friends and compatriots out into the muddy ally behind the building. Ziegler dragged the still clinging to life Adler by his collar down the back passage towards the alley. Adler didn't even have the strength in that moment to grasp at his collar to keep air flowing to his lungs.

After several moments, Ziegler flung open the back door and heaved with all his might, tossing Adler out into the mud like a rag doll. He lay crumpled and dying upon the pile of dead men whom he had once commanded in the SA. Ziegler and several of his men laughed at the group's misfortune and one of them even spit on Adler before they slammed the door shut and disappeared back into the building.

Karl Adler stared up at the sky, waiting for the cold wave of death to overtake him as rain pelted down upon his crumpled body. His ever flowing blood spread across the puddles in the alley, turning the mud a dark maroon color from the taint caused by human blood. However then he began to think of other thoughts, of revenge, of how he wished he could take out his wrath on them all. How he wished he could show them all that he was the most powerful National Socialist to ever live in human history. He wanted to tear Ziegler to pieces and then burn whatever remained to ashes so his soul could never even leave for Heaven, Hell, or even Purgatory. Yet given the current circumstances it did not appear that such a goal would be accomplished any time soon.

So Adler just waited for Lord Death to claim his mortal soul and end his existence on this Earth-

 _'I can grant you the revenge and the power you seek.'_ A voice spoke out in his mind all of a sudden. Or was it his mind? Adler did not know, in fact he did not even speak English which the voice was speaking in. He knew it was nuts to respond, but what the Hell, he was dying anyways.

 _'Your just an imaginary voice in my head-'_ It hit him at that moment that he was able to think in English which shocked him because he only ever bothered to learn one word in English; 'Hello'. _'How am I able-'_

 _'To think in English? A language you have absolutely no idea of how to speak. I have linked our minds together Karl Adler.'_ Adler decided to just let the voice keep speaking now. He could still feel his life slipping away so he decided to not waste strength having a back and forth with this mysterious voice in his head. _'I am not just a voice conjured up by your subconscious to cope with the fact that you are dying. No I am something far greater. I am a demon. A demon who can grant you your wishes and rescue you from the doors of Death.'_ Adler kept listening as he bit back a groan from a sharp pain where one of the pullets had gone through a tendon. He could literally feel bones slipping away from each other and his veins flaying about like loose string.

 _'How could you do this?'_ Karl thought and he peered down with his one good eye left to see his once pristine brown uniform soaked red. The demon replied quick enough, though he had to considering that Adler had at most several minutes left to live. Possibly less.

 _'Well at the moment I cannot tell you due to the sacred scriptures of my kind forbidding the revealing of the nature of our true powers to the humans.'_ Adler was about to respond with 'Well then why the Hell are we talking' when the demon went on. _'Unless that is, we were to form what is known as a Faustian Contract. You would dictate a goal and until it is accomplished with my assistance I should serve you in any capacity you see fit.'_ Adler liked the sound of that, but he knew enough about deals that both parties gave something up.

 _'And from me you get?'_ The demon replied quite quickly this time, fast enough to give Adler the impression that their entire conversation might have been scripted in the heavens long before the present time. _'Upon the accomplishment of your goals with my assistance, I will get the joy of devouring your soul. But at that point, if all your goals have been accomplished then it makes sense that your life should conclude on a high note.'_ Adler decided at that moment to take the deal, and the demon must have sensed this because a great black mist suddenly began swirl above him and what looked like a face appeared in this mist and now Karl had a face to speak to.

 _'Think carefully. Should you reject the faith even this once, the gates of paradise will forever be out of your reach. Do you wish to form a contract with me.'_ Adler scoffed causing him to cough up a little blood originating from one of the many internal wounds he had suffered. He had never been a religious man, laughing at those old fools in the Church, as he had always been a stronger believer in the methods of science than in those of God. Yet here he was, talking with an honest to goodness demon from Hell. _'I wish to form a contract with you.'_ There was a low rumbling and then from out of the mist an object in the shape of a clawed hand reached out and placed what would be its palm on Adler's chest.

He felt a pull in his body all of a sudden and looked down with his one good eye to see the bullet's embedded in his body suddenly leaping out and clattering to the ground. Then the greatest pain of all as the bullet in his eye was pulled out, taking his shattered right eye with it as blood began to spew like a fountain. Yet, then all the blood he had spilled across the ground in the alley, whether spread into the puddles of rainwater or absorbed into the mud, began to flow back in the direction of his body and over the dead bodies of his compatriots to reach his. Blood began to flow in from under the back door, the blood he had spilled from being shot inside and the trail he had left when Ziegler dragged him outside. It all began to flow back into him through the very holes they had left through and Adler felt as though his internal organs and body parts were knitting themselves back together.

The only thing that remained was his now missing right eye and a bloodied empty socket that was the only evidence it was ever occupied. The demon hand reached up to the empty socket and hesitated to give him one final warning. _'I shall regenerate your eye, but I shall also place the contract seal upon it as well. A demon's contract seal is placed upon our hand, but our human contractor may choose where the seal shall be placed. The more visible the seal, the stronger the bond between human and demon. Do you wish the seal on another part on your body.'_ Adler shook his head and braced himself for the horrible pain that was sure to bombard his now repairing senses. The demon hand quickly planted itself on his empty right eye socket and then it came. Pain. Searing pain.

Pain the likes of which Karl had never known before in all his life. He felt as if he would die just from the pain but also knew that he must bring all his strength to bare and hold out. The pain he had felt just a short while ago from the assault by Ziegler and his men seemed like a mosquito bite compared to this. Karl unconsciously gripped the lifeless hand of one of his dead compatriots as his left eye closed and he clung to consciousness through the pain.

Then it ended and all seemed fine again. Karl opened his left eye and looked around to see the misty black cloud still swirling above him along with the demons head looking down upon him. He tested everything to make sure it was all working; flexing his fingers and toes, moving his arms and legs a bit, and even using his thigh to brush up against a very vital piece of equipment down below. All that was important was still in place and in perfect working order. He looked up at the demon and finally opened his right eye. He could see perfectly fine and felt nothing different.

 _'Now time to show me what you look like. Though if you can change appearance I would prefer if it were in the guise of an SS officer.'_ Adler thought to the demon whose misty face nodded and then the mist shot down like a twister as an individual began to form. As the mist slowly began to pull back up, Karl first saw the high black jack boots which were uniform for officers of the SS. Then came the black trousers and perfectly buttoned up black jacket. On the collars were the SS runes which were recently made part of the standard uniform. The mist finally receded and Karl saw his face and could pass a review as to what the demon looked like. A tall, bespectacled, and handsome man with short, black hair and golden eyes. His skin was as pale as the sky on a dreary day. Upon his head was the military-style peaked cap upon which was placed the _Totenkoph_ symbol that identified the SS. And upon his right arm was a blood red swastika armband as worn by all members of the SA and the SS.

He placed his left hand over his heart and bowed his head a little before uttering in an emotionless voice. "What are your orders Sir." Adler pushed himself up onto his elbows and thought on what his first command to this demon would be. And then as he thought of a perfect idea, a smirk crept onto his features. He pointed inside the building he had just been shot in and left for dead in an alley outside of.

"Go in and kill everyone inside but I want you to bring me Ziegler's head." The demon once again placed his hand over his heart, or rather the bottomless pit of darkness where the heart should be, and bowed his head. "It shall be accomplished sir." And with that he slowly opened the back door and entered the back passage, closing the door behind him.

In the several moments after, there was nothing but silence, broken only by the fierce thunderstorm which continued to play out across the sky. Then Adler heard a ferocious bout of horrified screams being emitted from within the beer hall along with the thunder of guns firing yet still the screams continued. He saw one of the windows facing out into the alley become splattered red with blood, partially blocking out its light and casting strange shadows across the alley. Then, exactly two minutes later it all went quiet inside the beer hall once more indicating the whole affair was over.

Seconds later, the demon exited into the alley once more, completely unharmed in any way and holding in his right hand by the hair, the decapitated head of one Ziegler, blood still dripping from where his neck had been separated from his body. Yet that was not what unnerved Adler, what did do the trick was the look upon Ziegler's face. The expression was one of pure and absolute terror the likes of which Adler had never before seen upon the face of any man up till now. His mouth hung open as if his head had been removed mid-horrified scream. And the look in his eyes, it screamed fear and horror, as if in the moment of his death, all the happiness and good had fled from Ziegler's world. And it made Adler smirk, hell it made him chuckle, and before long he was full on laughing at the downfall of his rival.

He took the head in his hand and threw it to the ground, with the decapitated body part landing with a splash in a muddy puddle. Adler rolled it over this way and that with his boot as he smirked down at Ziegler. "Well it would seem that I shall have the last laugh after all." He then turned to face the demon once more and gestured towards the door. "I trust the others were dealt with in equally horrendous fashions of death." The demon nodded and Adler was inclined to take his word for it when observing the results of the demon's handling of Ziegler.

Adler then realized that eventually, tomorrow morning to be precise, customers would come into the beer hall and see the blood bath that had been left inside. Or someone would stumble upon the pile of corpses in the alley. And it would do him no good if people started asking questions as to what happened. The presence of his squad and Ziegler's all dead on the premises along with Ziegler's decapitated head would likely cause the SA and SS to point the finger of blame upon him. And he very well couldn't become the most powerful Nazi there was if he was locked up and executed by the SS.

He turned once more to the demon which he had just so recently contracted and suddenly felt a spark in his mind and he stumbled a bit. He glanced at his reflection in a puddle briefly but then immediately glanced back. On his right eye was a glowing symbol of an encircled, gold and orange pentagram, which he guessed must be the contract seal that the demon had spoken of. He shook it off and then looked back up at the demon to give out his orders. "I don't want any evidence left behind that the SS and SA could find. Clean up the mess in there and then deal with the brave souls out here." Then he threw in a final addition. "You are to treat the remains of Ziegler's men and Ziegler's body like one would to garbage. The bodies out here are to be buried somewhere secluded and treated with respect." He still wished for his fallen comrades to be given a proper burial. Even twisted minds with pitch-black souls may have some sense of honor left within them.

As he did before, the demon placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head, only this time there was a little speech to go with it. "Day into night, sugar into salt, living to dead, and silver into gold. That's what makes a butler." Adler cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at this little speech of his. _'Interesting little mantra but I have other things to worry about.'_ Just as the demon was walking off to conduct his task, Adler chose to call him back. "By the way, I never did catch your name." The demon turned and gave Adler an emotionless expression as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

"Claude. Claude Faustus."

 _Savoy Hotel, London_

 _United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland_

 _8th February, 1933_

The passionate moans of a young lady could easily be heard through the thin walls of the hotel penthouse, the female occupant of which as the source of said moans. The cause for these moans was the young man laying atop her, caressing and pleasuring her body to the point of infinite passion. Said young man was currently planting kisses on his way down her neck to her collarbone, with his next target being her still covered breasts which his firm hands were kneading through the fabric of her corset. He sucked upon her pulse point, eliciting a wild and animalistic cry of pleasure from her. It was a moment of pure passion and happiness which could never be disturbed by any such thing in the known world.

Yet such was not true, as the attention of both the young man and the young lady was caught by a fierce pounding upon the door and shouts for it to be opened. The young man sighed in an annoyed fashion as he planted a kiss upon the lady's forehead and smiled at her in a way that said 'I'll be right back'. This caused her to smile back as he climbed off the bed and stood up whilst she pulled the covers of the blanks up around her to conceal her less than fully clad form from whomever was banging upon the door. The young man didn't bother to re-button the top three buttons of his pristine white shirt allowing a small peek at a well sculpted torso.

He strode over to the door as someone continued to bang upon it and a deep voice continued to shout out, though it was somewhat muffled by the barrier that the door acted as. "Open this door at once! I said open it god dammit!" The young man placed his hand on the handle and once again gave an annoyed sigh before he swung the door open as the man was about to bang again causing him to fall forward.

The disturbance at the door was a portly, mustached man in a beige suit with a gold tag that said 'Manager' upon it. This being due to the fact that he was Charles Haverton, Manager of the _Savoy_ Hotel. His face was beet red with anger but the young man just crossed his arms and leaned against the door with a bored expression gracing his features. He even had the gall to speak first. "What do you want you over-sized buffoon." This remark caused Haverton's face to turn a deeper shade of red bordering on purple.

He took a step forward and pointed an angry finger at the young man. Something which those whom knew the young man related to equivalence of a death wish. "I want you out of my hotel you miscreant! Your obscene activities are disturbing the other guests! Don't think that just because your a spoiled rich brat that everything will go your way all the time!" He was huffing and puffing just like the wolf in the old folk story with the three little pigs. However the young man simply uncrossed his arms and took a step forward, staring Haverton right in the eyes as the young mans rich, deep blue eyes briefly flashed crimson. This caused Haverton to take a slight step back and in the back of his mind he felt a pocket of fear growing.

"Listen to me you overstuffed turkey. If you knew who my father was, you'd be on your hands and knees kissing my boots and begging my forgiveness." He took another step forward and looked down at Haverton with a look of pure disdain. "Now as you can see, I am trying to share a romantic evening with a very lovely young lady, so if you would stop interrupting we can all be happy." Just as Haverton was about to respond, a bell hop hurried up to him and panted for several moments to catch his breath before he was able to properly stand up and relay the message he had rushed to deliver.

"Mister Haverton sir, there's a gentlemen downstairs saying he is here to collect the young gentlemen staying in the penthouse suite. He said to mention his name was Sebastian." This discovery caused the young man to elicit yet another annoyed sigh and he took a step back. "Inform him I shall be down in several moments." And with that he shut the door in their faces and turned back to the young lady whom was still covering herself with the blankets. He strode over to the side of the bed and stood over her. "I'm afraid we shall have to continue this evening another time my darling little rose petal." And with that he swooped down and captured her lips in one final passionate embrace.

After that he re-buttoned his shirt, much to the displeasure of the young lady who pouted and gave a little whimper when he did so. He picked his tie up off the desk where it had come off when the two of them had been grappling atop the desk in each others embrace. Then he retrieved his jacket from the back of the desk chair and gave the young lady one final wave before striding to the door and exiting the room.

Sebastian Michaelis whipped his pocket watch out of his breast coat pocket and flipped it open to observe the time. He gave a sigh as he saw how long he had been waiting for the Young Master to come down from the penthouse. _'The boy really must mature enough to be time conscious. I have been waiting for him now for twenty minutes.'_ However, just as he was putting the instrument back into his pocket, the lift dinged and expelled his Young Master from it who had by this point returned to being fully dressed. The young man strode towards the towering butler with a bored expression upon his features once more.

Sebastian forced a smile to his face as he bowed slightly to greet the young man. "Ah young master Vincent. What a pleasure that you have decided to come out of hiding from your penthouse suite to grace us with your presence." The young man, Vincent, saw right through Sebastian's friendly act and scowled at the man before strolling right out the front doors to the sleek black car waiting outside. Sebastian smirked as he followed after him and opened the door for the young man to enter.

As Vincent settled into his seat in the back he leaned over and took a look up at the penthouse and then leaned back in his seat. Sebastian sat in the drivers seat and started up the engine as they got under way down the road and heading out of London. Vincent however had something to throw at Sebastian as they were reaching the city outskirts. "You do realize Sebastian that you ruined what could have been a very lovely evening for me and an amazing one for that young lady." Sebastian observed the boy in his rear-view mirror with a smirk.

"Understood my young master. However, if I may point out that it took a fair amount of convincing to prevent Her Ladyship from calling out Scotland Yard to search for you following your sudden disappearance from the manor." Vincent groaned when he heard that as it reminded him that a severe reprimand was sure to be in store for him upon their return to the estate. He wasn't sure who would have it in for him worse; mother or father. Or perhaps his younger brother Thomas complaining about not taking him to London with him.

Within several moments the car pulled up in front of a massive manor. The entire area is margined with ruins and a rubble of stone. Vast expanses of land, outlined by a great quantity of bushes and trees, contain the gargantuan building of the manor. There are patches of snow here and there as the result of several recent snowfalls. The air is crisp and quiet but not for long.

All of a sudden a great shriek pierces the air and seems to shatter the ear drums of even the birds. "VINCENT PHANTOMHIVE!" The voice belongs to a woman and said woman is soon revealed storming out the front doors of the manor and in the direction of Vincent. Said woman has fiery emerald green eyes, waist-long, golden-blonde hair with a cowlick that has a slight curl in the front, and the rest of the hair is worn in two long drills. She is a petite woman wearing a simple red dress but with the fires of hell burning in her right now.

Before Vincent can act, she has grabbed him by the ear and begun pulling on it harshly as both argue with each other. Vincent urging for his freedom and the woman berating him.

"Mother please let go of my-" Vincent began only to be cut off by some extremely loud shouting. So loud he suspected that the over-stuffed manager of the _Savoy_ could hear her. "Young man! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED WE WERE!" Vincent nodded and struggled to free his ear from his mothers vice-like grip. "I WANTED YOUR FATHER TO CALL OUT SCOTLAND YARD YOU KNOW!" And then in an instant she had calmed down and was all smiles as she looked at Sebastian. "Thank goodness we have Sebastian with us, else who knows what you might have gotten up to." Sebastian bowed once more and allowed a small smile to appear on his face.

"You are far too kind in your praise Lady Elizabeth. After all if I couldn't find my master's son in the bustling city of London in a mere few hours, well then what kind of a butler would I be." Vincent scowled once more at Sebastian but Elizabeth tugged on his ear more vehemently now for several moments until she let go of his ear and then tackled him in a bear hug that was squeezing the life out of the boy. "OH I'M JUST SO GLAD MY BABY BOY IS SAFE AND SOUND!"

"Don't coddle the boy Elizabeth." Came a cold and hard voice from the doorway and all three individuals turned to see the master of the house standing there. One would have a hard time debating whether he looked more magnificent or terrifying.

He is a tall, six feet in specific, handsome man with black hair and rich, deep blue eyes. His figure is lean and fit and upon his hands are black gloves, covering his right eye is a pitch black eye patch. His one visible eye briefly flashes crimson, and in almost perfect unison both Sebastian and Vincent's eyes also flashed crimson. The expression on his face is one of pure disappointment directed at Vincent.

The man slowly approached Vincent whom Elizabeth had stepped in front of and the man simply stopped and raised an eyebrow at her. "Really Elizabeth, he is seventeen years old and yet you still are the one who protects him." Elizabeth nodded and had a firm look but Vincent stepped in front of her and his eyes turned crimson completely as did his father's. Suddenly there was a minor shock wave which blew apart some pieces of cobblestone between the two. The man then began berating Vincent himself.

"I do hope you know there will be punishment for this. You had your mother and me worried sick." Then he scoffed at what Vincent had been doing. This, naturally, caused Vincent to scowl at his father. "Allow me to understand this. You worry your family to death, all so you can sneak off to see a tart." Vincent rounded on his father and pushed past him as he walked towards the manor.

"Sorry if I don't live up to the reputation of the great Ciel Phantomhive father." With that he disappeared inside the massive structure. Then he threw something back. "And for your information, she was not a tart! She was Lady Roseline Nancy, a distant relation to the Prince George, Duke of Kent." Ciel rounded on him now with a further fury as his eyes delved very deep into crimson.

"I know whom the Prince George is and don't you dare to take up that tone with me!" Then he got down to the more pressing issue of the moment. "And what form of relation is this young lady to His Grace the Duke of Kent?" Ciel certainly hoped that Vincent was not meddling about in the affairs of the Royal Family. That would have him in hot water.

However instead of answering, Vincent just stormed on ahead into the manor, leaving his father's question unanswered.

And so we begin the story of Vincent Phantomhive, human-demon hybrid son of Ciel Phantonhive.


End file.
